The Advisor and the Commander
by Cielita
Summary: The sequel to "The Bluebird and the Sparrow". Life continues for our favorite scarecrow and tin man.


_**The Advisor and the Commander**_

Sequel to "The Bluebird and the Sparrow"

"Sir, our scout has returned from the lands to the south!" a soldier cried, bringing Wyatt's attention from a map he was discussing with his lieutenants. This scout was the last of the eight that Wyatt had sent out, each one to report back with his findings as they pertain to the location of Zero and his army. Wyatt was confident that the royal armies outnumbered the missing battalion at least 10 to one, and with odds like that, it was only a matter of finding them and moving on their location. This last scout was a day late, and Wyatt had started to worry. He left the map table and accompanied the soldier as the scout's horse trotted to a stop inside the gates of the training yard. Wyatt started to ask for the young scout's report and stopped when the youth slumped forward on his mount and another soldier shouted for a medic. Wyatt helped another soldier pull the scout off his horse and the young man opened his eyes. He was no more than a year older than Jeb, and one of the best riders they had.

"Sir…" the boy sputtered as he lay in Wyatt's arms. The soldier that had helped to pull him from the horse drew back his glove and it was smeared with the boy's blood.

"What the devil?" another soldier muttered.

"Boy's been shot!" said another.

"Report, Carson," Wyatt ordered gently.

"Zero…armies are doubled…coming from the south…barely escaped, sir," Carson replied, wincing with the pain of his injury.

"Where's that medic?" Wyatt roared.

"He has…the seers," Carson murmured.

"Raw…" Jeb added, saying out loud what his father was already thinking.

"Yes, sir…saw him with my own eyes…" Carson said. He seemed to gain a little strength as he spoke. "Zero has the women and children…he'll kill them if the men don't…"

"Don't what?" Wyatt demanded, but Carson suddenly went limp in his arms, his robin's egg blue eyes lost in death. As Wyatt looked at the men around him, the summoned medic finally arrived, just moments too late. Wyatt silently set Carson on the ground, closed the boy's eyes, and stood.

"Ten lashes for this fool," he growled at another lieutenant, "and take your time. It might convince him to move faster in the future!" The lieutenant nodded and murmured 'yes sir' but looked at his comrades in shock. The medic looked positively ill with panic.

"I was on the other side of the tower," the medic pleaded. "Tending to a broken ankle…I came as soon as I was summoned, sir!" Wyatt turned from him and was met with his son's confused countenance. He'd never ordered such a punishment before. Wyatt started to move past them and stopped at Jeb's shoulder when he said, "Sir?"

"Let him go," Wyatt growled softly. "Take two men with you and notify Carson's family. Meantime, prepare all battalions to move south immediately. Send someone to the queen to tell her the plan—go now!" Wyatt stalked off to the stables and Jeb nodded before taking a breath and beginning to execute his father's orders.

*************

When Lieutenant Little knelt before the queen, Azkadellia, and DG and reported to her what had just occurred in the training yard, she immediately called for Ambrose.

"That's exactly what Zero wants!" Ambrose hissed at Little. "He wants us to overreact and go running after him! That poor boy was bait! It's a trap!"

"I understand, sir, but the Captain won't hear any opposition," Little replied.

"Of course not," Ambrose grumbled. "Well, if he's going to do this, he going to hear from me."

"With all due respect, sir," Little said, taking larger strides to keep up with Ambrose, "if you had been there and saw the look in that boy's eyes…"

"I know what fear and death look like, lieutenant," Ambrose growled.

"I'm not disputing that, sir, I'm merely saying that Captain Cain's doing what he does best—taking immediate action," Little explained. "Carson was simply the catalyst."

"Ambrose!" a voice called out. Both men stopped and DG came running to them.

"I won't get a chance to say goodbye before they leave," DG said, swallowing her fear in favor of decorum in front of the lieutenant. "Give this to my husband for me? Tell him I said I love you and to come home alive." DG handed Ambrose a white silk scarf, which the royal advisor took with a nod of his head.

When Ambrose arrived in the guard barracks, Jeb stopped and came to greet him.

"We're a little busy here, sir. What is it you need?" Jeb asked. Lieutenant Little was gone a second later and Ambrose produced the scarf.

"A token from your wife," Ambrose said softly. "She says she loves you, and to come back alive." Jeb smiled and bit his lip to hold back what he wanted very much to do—run back into the tower to properly say goodbye. Instead, he slipped the cool silk scarf around his neck and tucked it into his armor.

"Where's your dad?" Ambrose said, adjusting the scarf for him.

"He was pretty pissed when Carson died in his arms. He wasn't much older than me and it hit him pretty hard. He went toward the stables," Jeb said. "I have to get going here."

"Jeb?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful," Ambrose said paternally. Jeb cared for Ambrose and considered him a step-father, so a second later, Jeb threw propriety to the wind and threw a manly hug around Ambrose. With this accomplished, the two parted ways.

Men went this way and that in the stables, saddling the horses, checking their shoes, and double checking the armor that the horses wore. Ambrose's entrance into the area didn't go unnoticed. The men still looked at him with a little apprehension. They knew he was the queen's advisor, and for this reason they tolerated him, but they knew that the look in his eyes was not all business related today and so did Wyatt.

"Captain, a word?" Ambrose said, coming upon Wyatt.

"You're not going to talk me out of this," Wyatt said, pointing a gauntleted hand at Ambrose.

"I'm not foolish enough to think I can talk you out of anything, all right? I just want you to take a little more caution. Wait a day or two," Ambrose pleaded. "Let's plan this a little better."

"Zero's counting on us to be shaken and not act quickly," Wyatt said.

"He's counting on us to overreact and be rash," Ambrose said. Wyatt patted the neck of his horse and then moved toward an equipment room to see that the men were still on task. Ambrose followed as he made his rounds.

"I understand your concerns, Ambrose, I really do, but this bastard has been causing hell since before Azkadellia was in power. I want him gone," Wyatt said.

"Take me with you," Ambrose said. Wyatt stopped and turned to face the man he loved.

"No," Wyatt said. "Your job is here. Your job is to advise and protect the royal family."

"I can help you! I proved it when we saved DG!" Ambrose insisted. Wyatt finally cracked a smile.

"Your rhythm notwithstanding, I need you to be here," Wyatt said. Ambrose averted his eyes for a moment.

"I know that you feel like less of a man because you've never been a soldier," Wyatt said softly, shepherding Ambrose out of earshot of the men. "But I want you to forget that, all right? It isn't true and you know it."

"I love you," Ambrose whispered.

"I love you, too," Wyatt replied in kind. Jeb's voice made them both look up.

"Let's go, people!" Jeb shouted. "Clear this livery, now!" He passed his father and Wyatt squeezed Ambrose's arm thoughtfully before moving to follow him. Jeb turned as the last of the men and horses left the stable. They were just out of earshot of Ambrose, who still stood stock still in the stable.

"Get back in there and say goodbye to him properly. The men can deal with me if they have a problem. He's your spouse and he deserves their respect," Jeb said firmly. Wyatt folded his son into a tight hug and kissed the side of his head before Jeb, too, made his way out of the stable. Wyatt turned, closed the distance between himself and Ambrose and took the brunette's face in his hands before kissing him with everything he had. A kiss that lasted all of a minute ended with both trying to catch their breath.

"I'll miss you…I love you, scarecrow," Wyatt murmured.

"Come home to me, tin man," Ambrose replied. "Please be careful, both of you." Wyatt nodded and left the stable with Ambrose a step behind him. There was a small commotion in the yard as the men emerged into the sunshine.

"Where do you think you're going?" Wyatt asked as an armor-clad Azkadellia shoved a stable groom out of the way and mounted her horse herself.

"You're going after Zero, are you not?" Azkadellia asked.

"I can't vouch for your safety with any surety, princess," Wyatt said firmly.

"I don't need you to vouch for anything except the competency of your men. I trained Zero. You need me," Azkadellia insisted, reigning in the eager horse. Jeb looked at Wyatt and Wyatt suddenly mounted his horse and gave the order to move out.

"I hope you know what you're doing, your highness," Wyatt said.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Azkadellia said with a smug determination. "You aren't the only one who has a score to settle with Zero."

*************

Over the following days, Wyatt sent word back periodically of their progress. Using Azkadellia's powers, they were able to backtrack along the path that Carson had taken and set up base camp at a safer distance than they would have been able to without her.

"He must know we're here by now," Wyatt said as they peered over the ridge to where Zero's army was encamped in the low-lying valley. They could see that the Seers were being forced to perform slave labor and that their women and children were caged and occasionally tormented as they watched.

"He does know. But his weakness is his bravado—he's not counting on us to be…creative," Azkadellia said.

"Creative?" Wyatt asked with an eyebrow raised. "What do you have in mind, princess?"

"Why, Captain Cain, I don't know if I appreciate the tone of your voice," Azkadellia teased. "Are you insinuating that I might be up to no good?"

"I just wonder sometimes if you learned a few new tricks from that old hag," Wyatt teased back.

"I'm not without my wiles," Azkadellia said. With this, Azkadellia stood, took a breath, and transformed before them into a very pretty female Seer.

"Your mother will have my head if I send you in there as bait," Wyatt said.

"Crazy enough that it just might work," Jeb said with a smile. "They'll think they missed one and if she's worth her salt as an actress, she'll fool them into putting her in one of the cages with the others. She can use her powers to pick the locks."

"Such a smart boy," Azkadellia purred, stroking Jeb's face. "I can see why my sister loves you."

"You just keep those claws for the battle. You'll need them," Jeb replied, picking Azkadellia's hand off his shoulder where it had come to rest. The next several hours were spent in planning their next moves.

"Ready the third, fourth, and fifth battalions to move on my mark," Wyatt said. "Cannon regiment forward and archers light up." Jeb nodded and left to do this, as well as lieutenants Little and Lewis.

"Going in kind of heavy, aren't you?" Lieutenant Addams asked gently. Wyatt was watching Azkadellia make her way down into the valley encampment.

"Azkadellia can protect the Seers with her powers," Wyatt said. "I don't want this fool to find any kind of way out. We'll send the third and fourth battalions around to flank them and bring down those that try to flee, and we can easily take those that charge ahead."

"Aye, Captain," Addams replied, an eager grin spreading across his face.

Jeb watched with a pair of spy glasses as Azkadellia made her way down through the brush and around to one side of the encampment. Zero's men spotted her when a tree branch she deliberately leaned on waved under her weight and she was easily captured. Two men roughly sized her up, teased her and then dragged her into an already too full cage. She briefly embraced the occupants as though she was one of them and then waited for the men to be out of earshot before very softly whispering to the nearest woman that help was on the way.

"There is a mine field just beyond this clearing to the north. The men are forced to handle the explosives," another woman whispered fearfully, tears in her eyes. "Two have been killed already!"

"Are you strong enough to fight back?" Azkadellia asked them. Most nodded and Azkadellia made a quick head count of the other cages. "Then prepare yourselves. We're getting out of here in a matter of minutes!"

Zero returned by horse from a reconnaissance mission with two of his scouts and was screaming orders as soon as he was within earshot, startling his men, who had settled into a very comfortable waiting position. Wyatt gave his lieutenants a signal and the third and fourth battalions emerged from hiding, forcing Zero's men to immediately charge in three directions, disorienting them. Azkadellia used her powers to blow the locks off the cages that held the women and children and the brave Leonids, men and women alike, charged on their captors. Azkadellia changed back to her true form and drew a sword from her belt, joining the fray.

Azkadellia looked up from a vanquished soldier to see her horse charging toward her. She prepared, leapt, and pulled herself up into the saddle. From this new vantage point, she could see that Wyatt was shouting commands as the cannons reloaded and the archers fired. She turned again and spotted Zero, riding at a full gallop away from the battle, two of his closest lieutenants struggling to keep up with him. Azkadellia ordered her horse on and gave chase, keeping to the tall brush around the clearing as Zero rode through what the Seer women had told her was the ancient mine field. Azkadellia's horse screeched in fear as one of Zero's men met his end after galloping over a mine, and then the other met a similar fate. Zero miraculously fared well and Azkadellia pushed her horse harder, trying to get close enough to use her powers.

It seemed to happen inches at a time, but Azkadellia finally got her wish. The brown-eyed princess extended her hand and a shockwave of power sent Zero flying from his horse just as he passed the northern edge of the mine field. On foot he was no match for the speed of Azkadellia's horse, so she was upon him seconds later, jumping down from her horse with her hair flying and her sword in her hands again. She gritted her teeth and winced as sparks flew from the blade. Zero had drawn his pistol and the shot had ricocheted off the sword. Zero's gun was no match for Azkadellia's prowess with a sword and a crossing blow sent the gun soaring far out of reach, and left Zero without the ends of several of his fingers. Azkadellia shouted over his screaming, "That was for my father!" Zero reached inside his jacket for a reserve weapon and a downward stroke raked open the buttons on his coat and made a shallow slash across his chest that blossomed with dark red blood. "That was for my mother!" Zero stumbled back two steps, maybe three, and Azkadellia swung again, slashing his right arm, declaring this injury for her sister. Zero screamed and slammed his back against a tree and Azkadellia came in low and drove her sword into her opponent, biting into the tree on the other side with the force of the blow. Zero screamed again, his hands around the blade lodged in his belly. Azkadellia stalked to her victim's side and wrapped her hand around his neck, pinning him further to the tree. She leaned to his ear as he panted from oncoming shock and said, "…and that…was for Ambrose. Die slowly you sadistic son of a bitch." When she straightened and pulled her sword away, Zero lunged with his one good arm and buried a small pocket knife into the seam of the armor covering her shoulder and arm. She cried out and stumbled back, watching as Zero slumped to the ground. She was clutching her right arm in pain for a moment and then seemed to compose herself enough to use her left hand to pick up the weapon and awkwardly clean it on the grass before trying to sheath it.

"Azkadellia!" a voice shouted out in the distance. She could vaguely hear hoof beats as the caller was coming toward her. "Azkadellia!" Despite the pain blurring her vision, she gasped, "The mine field! They don't know!" She stumbled back to her horse, blinking to clear her vision.

"Go back!" she shouted. "Go back!" She cleared the wooded area on the north side of the mine field to discover that Jeb was riding toward her just on the edge of the mine field. Seeing her in the taller grass, he adjusted his heading and rode to her side, on the edge with the tall grass—the side that was safe—and Azkadellia slumped into her brother-in-law's arms with the pocket knife still jammed in her shoulder. Jeb carefully pulled her from her horse as another soldier arrived to help him and promptly took the reins of Azkadellia's horse.

"Where's Zero?" Jeb demanded as Azkadellia's eyes fluttered open and closed again.

"Dead."

Jeb nodded and they returned to the encampment, where the survivors of Zero's armies were taken into custody, the Seers were released, and the entire group was preparing to move out with heads held high—the day was won!

It would take them another week to get the Seers back to their homeland and settled safely and two more to deliver the prisoners to a large facility on the eastern seaboard of the O.Z. Finally, after two months away from home, Wyatt proudly marched his armies home into Central City.

It was late—too dark to see anything more than four feet from the streetlamps late—and Wyatt ordered his men to bathe and eat—there would be time to clean their armor and review their strategies and performances in the morning. For now they were home and deserved every last minute of rest. Wyatt indulged his men when they pleaded for him to join them for their midnight meal, but insisted upon going home after hanging his armor in its place in his office. He entered the yard and Jeb was making his way across toward the palace.

"Lieutenant?" Wyatt called. The younger Cain stopped and turned, smiled, and jogged back to his father.

"What's wrong?" Jeb asked. In the torch light of the yard, Wyatt pretended to check behind his son's ears, making him laugh and playfully struggle before Wyatt folded the boy into a hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Jeb," Wyatt whispered.

"Thanks, dad," Jeb replied, taking a step back and sniffling hard to chase away a stray tear. "I really need to…"

"Say no more. Tell DG I love her, okay?" Wyatt said.

"I hate to have to wake her up, but I don't think I could hide out in another bedroom till morning," Jeb chuckled. Wyatt looked up at the tower and noted that lights were flickering on in places.

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about waking her, son," Wyatt said, gesturing toward the windows. Jeb smiled and then turned to jog back toward the tower, disappearing inside. When he arrived on the high-up floor where the bedroom chambers were, he was out of breath and had to stop and let his racing heartbeat catch up. A door opened and light spilled into the dark corridor, framing the silhouette of his wife.

"DG!" Jeb cried, forgetting that anyone else might still be asleep. DG bounded to the end of the corridor and threw herself into her husband's arms, knocking him onto his back on the floor as she eagerly kissed his mouth. Jeb fought them into a sitting position, still holding her against him and drowning in her affection.

"I missed you so much," DG gasped.

"I missed you, too, darlin'," Jeb murmured, kissing DG in soft, soothing strokes. "I love you, so much."

"I love you, too," DG said, stroking Jeb's tousled blonde hair and settling into his lap. "Where's your dad? Is he okay?" Jeb nodded.

"No more banged up than I am. He's probably on his way home to Ambrose right now," Jeb said, sweeping DG's loose brown hair out of her eyes.

"We were so afraid when we didn't hear from you for so long," DG said.

"It took us longer than we expected to settle the Seers. Raw wanted to come home with us and we told him he would be better staying there with his people. When the dust settles there, he'll be back—to stay," Jeb said. DG hugged Jeb tightly and took a deep breath against his shoulder.

"Jeb…where's my sister?" DG asked. Jeb looked his bride in the eye and her mouth fell open as tears started to shine in her eyes, assuming that his sudden seriousness meant something had befallen Azkadellia.

"Oh, no," Jeb said quickly. "No, honey, don't you jump to conclusions. Az is alive, but she took more of a beating than some. She'll spend the night in the infirmary and she should be able to rest in her own room after that."

"I want to know everything," DG said. "Now." Jeb tried to protest—insisted that it was so late at night that it was better to wait for morning—but DG would bear no opposition. Jeb told her everything. He detailed the journey, the battle, the Seers, the mine field, and Azkadellia's brave final fight against Zero. He kissed her softly and urged her to get up so that they could retire to their room, but when they stood, the queen was standing nearby, having heard most of their conversation, including the part about Azkadellia. She was fighting tears as she administered hugs and kisses and then in a tender whisper, told the youngsters to go to bed. She herself would go to Azkadellia.

When Wyatt arrived home, Price was at the door, and between he, Mrs. Havesham, and Georgianna, they welcomed their master home and asked over and over if there was anything they could do for him. Wyatt smiled thoughtfully and urged them to return to bed—just their presence made him feel welcome enough, but what he really wanted to do was go upstairs and greet his scarecrow.

"Mister Cain, sir?" Georgianna's meek voice carried up the stairs behind him.

"What is it, Georgianna?" Wyatt said softly.

"I thought you should know, sir, that when we stopped hearing from you, Mister Ambrose thought for certain that you had perished, sir. You and Master Jeb," Georgianna replied.

"He thinks I'm dead?" Wyatt mumbled.

"He thinks I don't know it, but he weeps and holds your pillow at night, sir," Georgianna continued.

"I'll take care of it," Wyatt said. Georgianna nodded and lowered her eyes as Wyatt turned to resume his trek up the stairs.

"Welcome home, Mister Cain, sir" Georgianna murmured. Wyatt smiled at her and said thank you, watching as she scurried quietly across the floor back toward her bedroom.

When Wyatt arrived at his bedroom, he opened the door softly and slipped inside. By the dim light of the fireplace in the room, Wyatt could see that Georgianna was right; Ambrose had Wyatt's pillow clutched in his arms and spots from his mourning tears wet the pillowcase.

Wyatt very quickly put on his pajamas and carefully pulled back the covers. Ambrose was a heavy sleeper, but he wasn't taking any chances. Gingerly, Wyatt pried he pillow out of his lover's arms and put it back in its place, sliding slowly into bed. Ambrose mumbled in his sleep and moved, pulling his arms back around himself as another tear fell from his eye. Wyatt's heart was breaking—poor Ambrose really did think him dead!

"Oh, scarecrow," Wyatt whispered. "Please don't cry, Ambrose." Gently, Wyatt brushed a chocolate colored curl out of Ambrose's face. Ambrose shifted his weight and rolled over, pulling his share of the covers over his shoulder. Wyatt bit his lip guiltily. He knew it was his absence that kept his brown-eyed love from really resting all this time he was gone. Wyatt reclined carefully and slid his arms around Ambrose as he had done on their honeymoon, pulling Ambrose's tightly curled form against his chest and burying his nose in all those dark curls. Ambrose took a deeper breath and slowly blinked his eyes open. When the sleep cleared from his vision, he thought he must still be dreaming. He flinched as he realized there was someone else in the bed and Wyatt covered his mouth with his hand to keep him from crying out as he murmured, "Shhh…hello, sweetheart."

"Wyatt…" he murmured in return, twisting around to face him. "Is it really you?" He reached out and Wyatt took his hand, placing it against his cheek.

"It's me, sweetheart, I'm home," Wyatt replied, kissing his palm. "I'm home." Ambrose melted back into Wyatt's embrace sobbing all over again.

"I was so afraid," Ambrose wept.

"I know," Wyatt said, cuddling him against his chest. "It's all right now." He let Ambrose cry for another minute before urging him to lie back and let Wyatt hold him.

"I thought for sure I'd lost you," Ambrose continued, his arms wrapped around Wyatt's waist. "I just knew that there was some terrible disaster and all of you were gone." Wyatt kissed the top of his head and then kissed his lips when he looked up to meet his eyes.

"Aw, stuffing-for-brains," he muttered tenderly. "I don't go down that easy, you know that."

"What about the others? Where are Jeb and Azkadellia?" Ambrose asked.

"Jeb is fast asleep next to DG by now and Az will be fine, too," Wyatt assured him.

"What do you mean she'll be fine?" Ambrose demanded.

"Please, for the love of God, go back to sleep," Wyatt murmured, kissing Ambrose again. "I'll tell you everything in the morning."

"I love you, tin man," Ambrose mumbled sleepily. "I love you and I missed you so much."

"I love you, too, scarecrow," Wyatt replied, giving a yawn. "There's no place like home."

*************

In the morning, as light spilled through the windows, Azkadellia blinked her eyes open to find that her mother had fallen asleep beside her. She closed her eyes momentarily and the queen murmured in her sleep, lightly stroking Azkadellia's hair. Her body was achy and stiff from alternating between riding her horse and riding in the truck with the medical unit. It was true that over a month had passed since her injury, but an opportunistic infection had set back her recovery and she was still just a little too weak for a clean bill of health.

"I couldn't protect you…I'm so sorry, Azkadellia," the queen whispered softly. She was more awake now, but remained with her eyes closed as a tear rolled down her nose and she kissed Azkadellia's forehead. "My poor child…my girl…I love you so much." The queen lifted her other hand to cover Azkadellia's injured arm and the princess suddenly felt it as the infection was slowly driven from her body, the torn flesh mended itself, and the scar faded into nothingness.

"Mother," Azkadellia said softly. "Please don't cry." The queen opened her vividly lavender eyes and smiled as she held her daughter and kissed the top of her head.

"You'll be all right now, my darling," the queen replied, stroking Azkadellia's hair and applying a kiss to her temple. Moments of warm security that one only feels in the arms of one's mother passed before Ahamo quietly entered the infirmary to check on them.

"How are you feeling, Az?" he asked, sitting down on the opposite edge of the bed as his wife.

"Stiff, but much better," Azkadellia replied.

"Good. Your sister will be up any minute now and this is her first stop. She's been worried sick," Ahamo said.

"She should be spending the time with Jeb," Azkadellia muttered.

"You know there's no arguing with her," Ahamo chuckled. He looked up at his wife and smiled sympathetically. "Come now, my queen. The doctor will be in soon and if I know you, you've performed another miracle and our brown-eyed girl will be cleared to go back to her room soon enough." He smiled back at Azkadellia who blushed at a childhood nickname that only her father had ever called her. He had told her that it had to do with a song on the other side. Ahamo stood, bent over his daughter and kissed her forehead.

"I'm very proud of you, Azkadellia," he murmured. "Well done."

*************

Ambrose stretched, breathed deeply, and smiled before opening his eyes to the twinkling spring sunlight. He was looking forward to hearing Wyatt and Jeb tell him about their adventure, and he very much wanted to see Azkadellia. For now, though, he wanted nothing else but to be exactly where he was—in bed with…

Ambrose rolled over when the warm body beside his was strangely absent. Ambrose looked around the room, listened carefully, but Wyatt was nowhere to be found. Ambrose's heart started to race. Had he dreamed it? Had his first decent night's sleep in two months been the result of a hallucination? Ambrose felt his throat thicken and his eyes mist with the pain of sadness. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them as he started to cry again. He tried hard to stifle them—surely Georgianna would be up in a little while to attend to the fireplace and the bed—but he couldn't seem to shake it this time. He lifted one hand to cover his eyes and quietly sobbed.

"It was so real!" he muttered.

Wyatt slipped back into the room, hoping that he hadn't accidentally awakened Ambrose when he got up to use the bathroom. When he spotted Ambrose once again in anguished tears, he immediately went to sit on the edge of the bed. Ambrose looked up and was surprised to find that he'd been wrong.

"What's wrong?" Wyatt demanded, brushing an errant curl out of Ambrose's face. He pulled a handkerchief out from under his pillow and dabbed Ambrose's tears, softly kissing his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and this his full lips in an effort to console him.

"I thought I'd dreamed it," Ambrose murmured. "I thought you really hadn't come home at all and I was seeing things." Wyatt made a sympathetic face and pulled Ambrose into a hug.

"I suppose we'll need to get up soon," Ambrose said softly from his place in Wyatt's arms.

"I told Georgianna that we were going to go back to sleep. She's on her way up to get the fire going for us again because it's really chilly this morning and she'll bring us a tray of things to munch on if we get hungry before lunch," Wyatt assured him. "I told her you were still asleep. If you lie down and face the wall instead of the door she'll never know you were crying." Ambrose stole a lingering kiss from Wyatt before the latter got up, walked around and resumed his place on the other side of the bed.

A soft knock on the door came minutes later and Georgianna entered with the tray that Wyatt had told Ambrose about. She set it on a writing table across the room for them and then went back to the hall to retrieve her tools to fix the fire. When this was accomplished she was gone, her duty performed without saying a word, but giving Wyatt a smile and a nod before she closed the door behind her. Wyatt snuggled down to face Ambrose and tenderly stroked his lover's cheek.

"Feeling any better?" Wyatt asked.

"Of course," Ambrose replied. "I've never been so happy to be wrong!" Wyatt smiled and pulled Ambrose into his arms, warmly kissing him, reassuring him that he was indeed real. Ambrose worked his hands around to unbutton Wyatt's pajama shirt and let his fingers wander over his warm skin. Wyatt moaned softly and rolled his beloved onto his back so that he could sit up and shrug off his shirt and do the same to Ambrose. Once Ambrose's pale skin was free of the shirt, Wyatt leaned forward, covered his neck and collar bones in kisses, and then slid downward, flicking his tongue over and around each nipple on the smooth pectoral muscles of his chest. Ambrose was arching his back in the emotional force behind Wyatt's ministrations. Wyatt discovered with pleasure that Ambrose was hard and ready when he pulled the brunette's pajama pants down as he moved, kissing a trail down Ambrose's abdomen and following the dark line down to the thatch of hair between his thighs.

"Yes!" Ambrose whimpered, hardly knowing what to do with his hands. "Oh, God, keep going!"

"Ambrose," Wyatt murmured reverently against the soft, smooth skin inches above where he knew Ambrose was begging to be kissed. Ambrose cried out, clutched the sheets and very nearly demanded that Wyatt continue his conquest. While Wyatt complied with his orders, Ambrose threw his head back in delirious pleasure and continued to cry out as his heart raced in his chest. When he came, Wyatt was over him again, plundering his mouth with his kisses while Ambrose shook beneath him. Between the rush of bringing about Ambrose's climax and the sounds he made while Wyatt pleasured him, it wasn't long before Wyatt himself was at his end and the lovers collapsed back to sleep in each other's arms, kissing and cuddling until exhaustion took them over.

"Oh, I missed you," Wyatt murmured sleepily. "I missed the warmth of you…missed your body."

"Me, too," Ambrose replied, snuggling in against Wyatt's chest. "I've needed you back in my arms ever since you walked out of that stable the day you left."

"Rest for a while now," Wyatt said, stroking Ambrose's hair. "Just let me hold you."

"Yes…" Ambrose sighed. "I want to have the strength to return the favor in a little while."

Midmorning sun was hot on their skin now and the fire had burned down by the time Ambrose woke Wyatt with tender kisses on his neck. Wyatt smiled and shifted his weight so that he was more properly beneath Ambrose as his lover continued.

"Roll over," Ambrose breathed against Wyatt's neck.

"Why?" he replied, his eyes still closed as he focused on Ambrose's hands and lips.

"You've been away for two months," Ambrose rationalized. "All that stress of battle, sleeping on the ground…it's not good for you. I want to give you a massage."

"I didn't know you knew how," Wyatt said, opening his eyes and running his hand through Ambrose's hair. Ambrose covered this hand with his own and then turned his head to kiss the palm.

"Roll over and find out," Ambrose whispered, his brown eyes wide in the dim light. Wyatt inched his way over and got comfortable while Ambrose went to the drawer in their nightstand for a clear bottle of oil.

"What's that?" Wyatt asked.

"Peppermint oil," Ambrose said. "The peppermint is supposed to make your skin tingle. Not to mention it smells fantastic." Ambrose poured a small amount into his hand and warmed it between his palms, taking a breath of the sharp, sweet scent before he began to smooth it over the tense muscles in Wyatt's back. The tin man turned captain moaned softly under his beloved's ministrations, taking a deep breath of the peppermint-tinged air before relaxing a little more against the bed. Ambrose chuckled softly.

"Is that a good sound or a bad one?" he teased. Wyatt smiled in lieu of a response but a second later he gasped softly and murmured, "Oooh…" He squirmed a little as the peppermint did its work and began to tingle.

"I take it the peppermint just kicked in," Ambrose said. Wyatt nodded and emitted another contented purr as Ambrose worked. "I've been pretty tense the last few weeks and the queen finally noticed. She recommended the peppermint oil and it worked so I invested in a bottle."

"Who gave you your massage?" Wyatt asked, genuinely curious.

"…No one. I just did my neck and shoulders as best I could," Ambrose said softly. He finished Wyatt's back, neck, and shoulders and was still dragging his hand soothingly up and down his back as they spoke. Even though he was still a little dizzy from the acid released from his muscles, Wyatt slowly sat up and stole a grateful kiss.

"My turn to return the favor?" Wyatt offered.

"Tonight," Ambrose replied with a soft smile.

"Count on it," Wyatt said. He leaned over to take the bottle of oil from the nightstand and rubbed a little of it between his fingers.

"What are you thinking?" Ambrose asked.

"Close your eyes," Wyatt said with a mischievous grin. Ambrose bit his lip and did as he was told and Wyatt used the hand that was now slick with oil on the last place Ambrose expected. Ambrose gasped at the sensation of his lover's hand and the oil smoothing over the most delicate part of his body. Wyatt smiled as Ambrose slowly reacted to the tingling effects of the peppermint, very nearly crying out in pleasure.

"I can't believe you didn't think of this," Wyatt chuckled, teasing his lover's body as it stiffened beneath his treatment. A moment more thought gave Wyatt another idea. He leaned over, sliding his body over Ambrose's and kissed him soundly before he said, "Roll over." Ambrose was too delirious to refuse and complied, letting Wyatt's hands guide him. Wyatt took another small amount of the oil and applied it to his own body before Ambrose realized what he meant to do.

"No!" he cried.

"Listen to me; there was nothing to keep things slick the first time we tried this and I hurt you, I know, but let's try it this way. I love you so much, I wouldn't ever deliberately hurt you," Wyatt coaxed. A moment passed and the fear slowly left Ambrose's eyes. Seconds later Wyatt slipped effortlessly inside him and Ambrose cried out under the rush of one of the most incredible feelings he'd ever experienced. Minutes later, star-struck, spent and exhausted again, Ambrose fell asleep still on his stomach with Wyatt softly kissing him and stroking his hair as their heartbeats returned to normal.

"I love you, Ambrose," Wyatt whispered, snuggling against his lover's side and pulling a blanket over them.

"I love you, too," Ambrose whispered back, drowsily nudging in against Wyatt's chest.

"You know," Wyatt said before sleep overtook him, "turnabout is fair play…it's your turn tonight."

*************

Days stretched into a week and that week was soon another month gone by. DG announced that she and Jeb would be parents before the end of the year, thrilling Wyatt and Ambrose with the prospect of becoming grandfathers, and Ambrose unveiled his latest creation: a harvesting machine that would speed up crop rotations and thus increase food production for the O.Z. Wyatt, Jeb, and the others were all very proud of this accomplishment. It was the culmination of months of work and coming home late every day covered in dirt, sweat, grease and oil. Some nights, after his work with the soldiers was done, Wyatt would join Ambrose in his impressive workshop to help. Those nights, both would come home grinning with accomplishment and dirty all the way to the skin.

One night not long after Ambrose and Wyatt's first wedding anniversary, Wyatt returned home and arrived downstairs for dinner only to discover that Ambrose was not home yet.

"Still puttering away in his shop, is he?" Wyatt teased as he sat down to eat. "I wish he wouldn't do this so often—I hate eating alone."

"If I may be so bold, sir, perhaps Mister Ambrose should next invent some way for him to contact you if he plans to work late into the evening," Price replied with a smile, warmed by Wyatt's laughter.

"I'll suggest that to him when I see him later," Wyatt chuckled.

"Very good, sir," Price said, returning to the kitchen.

*************

Hours earlier, a small group of Wyatt's soldiers met together in a corner booth of one of Central City's pubs. Each of the five men had a heavy glass of mead in front of him that he nursed quietly as they spoke.

"We've tolerated the nonsense long enough," one of them gruffly said. "Why don't we simply get rid of him?"

"Aye," a second man said, "and be in a pine box in the ground by sundown when her majesty finds out."

"What we need to do is convince him to go," the third inserted. "If he goes of his own compulsion then no one is to blame but him."

"That's the ticket, lads, but I think it'll take a fair bit more than a simple chat to get him to go," said the fourth. Each of the four soldiers were quiet for a moment as they awaited a response from their as yet silent fifth companion—dark eyed, heavy lidded, thick mustached Lieutenant Lewis.

"Our Captain was a decent, properly married man once before. It's her majesty's advisor who's bewitched him to this debauchery. Ambrose is no dull-eyed fool, though. Convincing him to go will be a task indeed," Lewis finally said.

"Let us handle it, Lieutenant," the first soldier said.

"We'll get through to him, sir," said the second. "We'll convince him to go if it takes us all night."

*************

Wyatt was startled awake when he heard the book he had been reading hit the floor and slap shut. Since being married to Ambrose, he'd actually started to read more often, a luxury he didn't have as a farmer or a Tin Man. Ambrose had been so happy to see this, that he'd developed a list of books he thought Wyatt might like. Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and then blinked against his watery eyes. Ambrose had not yet returned home and it was very late. Where could he be? Wyatt resolved to take the truck that Ambrose had built for him and head for the workshop. It must be an impressive idea indeed to keep him at work this late at night.

When he arrived at the workshop, parking the truck outside, the lights were on and Wyatt grinned. His hard-working lover surely had lost track of the time. What baffled Wyatt was Ambrose's appetite—it was voracious on a normal day and he enjoyed food so much that he never skipped a meal. Ambrose must be terribly involved in what he was doing to forget about dinner. When he entered the workshop, the tools were all put away on the pegboard, neat, clean, each in a labeled place. The working model of the harvester stood proudly on the far side of the shop, and the workbenches were all cleared. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Ambrose had cleaned up to leave and had simply left the lights on.

"Ambrose!" Wyatt called. His voice came back to him off the walls but there was no response.

"Where in God's name have you gone to?" Wyatt muttered as he took a few more steps through the shop. A sudden thought made Wyatt stop in his tracks. What if he'd been injured? Was Ambrose lying on the floor beneath one of his machines, or beneath his car, too injured to move? Wyatt searched the rest of the shop inch for inch, but Ambrose was nowhere in sight.

"Ambrose!" Wyatt shouted. No response. "Ambrose!" He searched the pegboard and benches again—no notes, no clues, nothing. Everything as meticulously well cared for as Ambrose always left it. Wyatt twisted his wedding ring and anxiously looked around again as his heart started to pound. Ambrose was gone without a trace.

*************

"This can be simple, or it can be complicated," said the first soldier to the pale brunette tied to the chair in front of him.

"You have no idea what world of shit you are sinking yourself into, doing this," Ambrose growled.

"No one saw us," a second one said, brandishing a bamboo rod and taking leisurely strides around the chair as the other two soldiers watched the first two from the shadows, "Certainly not our queen or her daughters and least of all our captain."

"What's this all about?" Ambrose demanded, struggling against his bindings.

"The Captain is a good and decent man. You've corrupted him and we want you to go away. Quietly," said the first soldier.

"Corrupted him? Are you serious?" Ambrose sneered. The second soldier brought the rod down across Ambrose's shoulders and he yelled out in shock and pain. He was still wincing when the first soldier continued.

"As I said, this can be simple or it can be complicated. Agree to leave Central City and never return and you're free to go this minute. Refuse, and things are going to get complicated," said the first soldier. Ambrose finally opened his eyes again and took a couple of steadying breaths before looking up at his tormenters.

"Never," Ambrose growled. Again, the rod cracked fire across his shoulders and Ambrose cried out, this time a little more prepared for the blow.

"You can make this stop," the soldier continued. "This all can end if you agree to the terms."

"My marriage means more to me—"

"Your 'marriage' is an abomination!" the first soldier shouted into Ambrose's face. He walked around the chair, grabbed Ambrose's hand, and roughly yanked and twisted until the wedding ring came free. The rod landed again and this time Ambrose's shoulders were shaking but he refused to cry. Wyatt would not have cried—he would draw his strength from his tin man.

"Boys, show him how complicated he just made things," the first soldier snarled. "Then escort him out of town."

*************

Wyatt went to the queen immediately the next morning to tell her that Ambrose had not come home the night before. He hadn't slept well and it showed on his face when he knelt before the throne.

"Was there a quarrel?" the queen asked gravely.

"No, your majesty. This didn't start at home," Wyatt replied patiently. "With all due respect, I recommend that you allow me to increase the security detail assigned to the royal family. If something's happened to Ambrose, they may be trying to get to you or even to DG because of the baby."

"I understand," the queen said softly. She was still in shock from the thought that someone could be trying to take her loved ones away one by one. "I leave this matter to your discretion, Captain Cain."

"Thank you, your majesty. I will get to the bottom of this…I swear," Wyatt said.

"What is being done to recover him?" the queen asked weakly.

"I've already sent search parties in every direction. The cold and the snow make travel more difficult, so whether he was taken or he actually left on his own accord, he can't have gotten far. We'll find him, your majesty," Wyatt replied. He realized a moment later that he was holding back the urge to sob in fear. His beloved one-year's husband was out there somewhere without any indication as to where he had gone. Wyatt smelled foul play and it terrified him. Moments later, Lieutenant Lewis strode through the door of the throne room. Wyatt stood and the lieutenant bowed before the queen.

"Pardon the intrusion, your majesty. Captain, my men have made a discovery," he said. In his hands was Ambrose's uniform jacket.

"Where did you find this?" Wyatt demanded.

"Folded over a workbench in his shop," Lewis replied.

"I searched the shop myself last night. We're the only ones that have keys to that shop. How did you get in?" Wyatt contended. Lewis had not been expecting this response and looked at his Captain in mild surprise before answering that the door had been left unlocked. Wyatt frowned. Was it possible that Ambrose returned to the shop after he left and left the coat and then walked away again?

"We also discovered this, Captain," Lewis said softly, opening his hand to reveal Ambrose's wedding ring. He placed the ring in Wyatt's palm and then waited for Wyatt to dismiss him before he left the room. All the feeling ran out of Wyatt's body.

"When this ring parts from this finger, then parts life from hence: O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead," Wyatt murmured.

"What's that, Captain?" the queen asked gently.

"Shakespeare…a play writer from the other side. He's Ambrose's favorite. We'd been reading the plays together," Wyatt replied. He placed Ambrose's ring on his hand beside its companion, and then said, "Please excuse me, your majesty." The queen nodded for him to go and Wyatt quickly found his way to a sunny out of the way parlor before he sat down and gave in to the urge to clutch Ambrose's coat and inhale that scent that was uniquely his own. Now he couldn't stop it—tears poured from his eyes and a sob finally broke free from his lips. If not for his obligation to the royal family, he would be out looking for Ambrose himself.

*************

"Report!" Jeb demanded as another search party returned to the palace. Wyatt had not yet returned from the queen, and two search parties had returned empty handed, freezing with the cold and weary from the ride.

"Nothing, sir," the head of the search party replied, dismounting his horse. He was about 29 and had brown hair and handsome blue eyes. "It's like he's vanished into thin air!"

"You always mistake what you assume," Jeb recited. The soldier smiled and nodded at the familiar sentiment. "We'll just have to reorganize and look again. He's got to be out there somewhere."

"There was another party not too far behind us, sir. Hopefully they turned something up," the man replied. "He talks too much, but I kind of liked the guy."

"Thank you, Ward," Jeb said, nodding respectfully. Jeb went about some other duties before the next party returned, just as Ward predicted.

"Report!" Jeb ordered as he strode from the barracks.

"No sign of him, sir," said the first soldier to dismount his horse. "The snowfall is going to make it almost impossible to find him unless we know what direction he went."

"I know that. We're not giving up," Jeb replied.

"Don't you think it's a little futile?" said another.

"This is her majesty's royal advisor. He's instrumental to the operations of the kingdom so it's imperative that we find him," Jeb said. "It's not your job to question your orders. It's your job to follow them."

"The fact that he's your father's bed warmer has nothing to do with it, then?" the first man said. Without warning, Jeb turned, using all of the momentum to land a left hook across the soldier's face, knocking him back against his companions. A hideous cracking sound told all of them that Jeb had just broken the man's jaw and possibly cracked more than one tooth. Jeb jerked the man off the snowy ground and threw him against the nearest wall as the other men watched.

"Ambrose is a member of my family—a member of the Captain's family—and he is advisor to her majesty the queen. You will show him the respect that is his due or I will throw you in a jail cell so fast you'll piss yourself in fear, do you understand me?" Jeb shouted. The bewildered soldier spit a mouthful of blood onto the snow and then muttered, "Captain's better off without that kind of trash—" He never got the rest of the sentence out. Jeb's fist connected again with the man's face. Jeb wound up for another when a stronger arm grabbed hold of his and held it. Jeb whirled and let the other man drop only to come face to face with his father.

"Sir," Jeb panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Dismissed, all of you. Take that one with you and get him cleaned up. Tell him to make sure he watches his tongue around the lieutenant from now on. He's got his father's temper," Wyatt said firmly but quietly. The soldiers did as they were told and Wyatt asked his son for a report. Jeb took a moment to swallow and gather his thoughts. Wyatt had said nothing yet about what had just happened.

"Three more search parties have returned since you went to talk to the queen. None of them turned up anything," Jeb replied as they walked.

"We're going to have to look outside the city," Wyatt said. "What happened between you and that search party?"

"He said something really foul about Ambrose. I won't tolerate any disrespect toward anyone, and I let him have it," Jeb explained.

"I understand," Wyatt said softly. "You're an excellent officer, son, and a good man, but don't let that temper you got from me turn you into a bully, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Jeb said, his tone now more that of a son than a lieutenant. "We are going to find him, aren't we?"

"I hope so, son," Wyatt murmured.

*************

Ambrose had never been so cold, so hurt, or quite so alone.

He was dizzy from being punched, kicked, and subjected to the cane, weakened from hunger and cold, and lost in the frozen countryside of the O.Z. The men had taunted and spit on him, kicked him as he lay curled on the ground and then…Ambrose shivered violently and then vomited at the foot of a tree. He was painfully cold without his jacket and wrapped his arms around his torso in a futile attempt to warm himself once he could stand again. He was unknowingly walking in circles and when he finally collapsed against a stand of young trees and slid to the ground, a heavily bundled man in a long parka was trudging through the snow toward him.

The man's hood was tight around his face and a full beard and moustache covered what was exposed of his face. Bright brown eyes peered out of the hood and grew wide as they spotted Ambrose.

"You'll catch your death out here!" the man cried.

"Help me!" Ambrose chattered. The man grew closer and finally started to notice various injuries and Ambrose's tattered clothes. "Please!"

"Mercy!" the man yelped, catching Ambrose as he fell into his arms. The man had been hunting and was on his way home for the evening, so he helped Ambrose to his feet and together the two made their way back to the simple house where the man lived with his wife and son.

"What's happened?" the man's wife demanded as her husband lumbered into the house with injured Ambrose.

"He was wandering about at the edge of the wood with not but what he's wearing and it looks like someone's used him for a punching bag…and a few other things," the man said, easing Ambrose toward the fire and setting him down on a thick fur rug before the hearth. Ambrose flinched and squirmed until he finally managed to find parts of him that didn't hurt too much to lie on and succumbed to the helping hands that removed his tattered clothes, tended his wounds, and then moved him to a bedroom down a short hallway where extra quilts were piled up and Ambrose finally drifted off to sleep. The man and his wife sat down wearily before the fire a minute later.

"We don't even know who he is, Donovan," the wife said softly. "He could be some criminal run out of the city for some terrible crime!"

"A criminal does not beg for help, Adalia," Donovan replied gently. "I thought I'd seen his face somewhere before, but I can't place it."

"I do hope we've done the right thing," Adalia murmured.

"Doing good is never a wrong," Donovan replied. Adalia smiled a bit as their son came out of his room to ask his parents what was happening.

"I heard lots of commotion," the boy said. He was about 10, strapping and handsome. "Is everything all right?"

"I discovered an injured man today while I was hunting and he's going to be our guest while he recovers," Donovan told him.

"Everything's all right, darling," Adalia added.

"Who hurt him?" the boy continued.

"We don't know," Donovan replied. "Everything's fine for now, Carter. Why don't you get ready for bed?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied. He turned and went back the way he came, wondering about this stranger in their home and where he could have come from that would hurt someone and then leave them to die in the freezing, blinding snow.

*************

Wyatt was beginning to figure out what it must have been like for Ambrose while he was away. The house was too big, too empty without someone else to fill the space. When Wyatt retired for the night, he stared at Ambrose's pillow for a moment before pulling it to him. He remembered that while he was gone, Ambrose had held his pillow close and it had been of some comfort to him. Taking a deep breath in the pillowcase, Wyatt breathed in the scent of Ambrose's cologne: juniper, cedar, sandalwood and apple, and it made him pull the pillow tighter to his chest. The last search party of the day made the suggestion that perhaps Ambrose was unsatisfied with his marriage and Wyatt couldn't imagine that that might be true, but the idea nagged at him. Could Ambrose really have walked away from everything that made him so happy? Was he really dissatisfied with his life? With his marriage to Wyatt? What had Wyatt done wrong? Wyatt tossed and turned that night, still clutching the pillow. He wasn't going to be able to sleep well until he knew what had become of the man he loved.

*************

Two more days of searching turned up nothing--not a trace of Captain Cain's missing husband. A gentle snow fell over all of the northern half of the O.Z. on the third day, and Wyatt stood in the training yard, only half paying attention to his men. The queen mourned listlessly from her throne, and Azkadellia wandered the corridors wrapped in a warm winter cloak, wondering if there was something more she could do. Wyatt's men spoke softly amongst themselves as they took a break for lunch.

"Do you suppose he really left the city on his own? This isn't a stupid man—he'd have never left his coat behind," one man said.

"Or his wedding ring. They've only been married a year—what could possibly have happened between them that would make him take off his ring and, well, take off?" said another.

"Maybe the royal advisor realized what an abomination his life was, and finally put an end to it," said a third man as he sat down with the group already talking.

"Abomination?"

"What the hell, man?"

"You don't see it, do you?" said this newest man. "It's an abhorrence to lie with another man. Maybe he just figured it out and was too much of a coward to use a pistol so he walked away into the storm that night."

"That's outrageous," the first man said. "Ambrose loved his life. He was loyal to the queen and enjoyed serving her. And I don't give a damn what you say—love is love no matter what gender the partners are and Ambrose loved the Captain more than his own life."

"I agree," the second man chimed in. "You talk as if you know all of this for certain."

"I don't," the third man said quickly. "I just know a disaster when I see one."

When this third man left the table with the rest of his regiment, the first two reported to their own lieutenant—Lieutenant Addams.

"We hope you believe, sir, that we're not trying to cause trouble, but his attitude makes us suspect that he may have had something to do with Ambrose's disappearance, sir," the first man reported.

"Explain," Lieutenant Addams ordered, his shrewd green eyes watching his men.

"Just the way he talked about gays, sir. Called them an abomination—an abhorrence," said the second. "He is welcome to his opinions, sir, but he said something that got me thinking. The storm the night Ambrose disappeared didn't happen until very late. Most didn't even know it happened until morning because we all slept through it. How does he know that Ambrose 'walked' away into the storm? He could have taken his horse or the car he's always working on," the second man explained.

"Good work, gents," murmured Lieutenant Addams. "Leave the rest to me. Lieutenant Lewis's men, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed," Addams said with a nod of his head. His men returned to their work and Lieutenant Addams went to have a talk with the Captain.

"What can I do for you, Gar?" Wyatt said, looking up from a new set of maps sent back from one of their rangers.

"My men are hearing some interesting talk that I thought you should be privy to, sir," Addams said, shutting the Captain's office door behind him.

*************

"Father! Mother! Look!" cried Carter as he returned home after delivering newspapers that morning. He spread a copy of the morning paper on the kitchen table as his parents quietly ate their breakfast.

"What is it, son?" Donovan asked.

"Quietly!" Adalia admonished. "You'll wake Ambrose!"

When Ambrose was finally lucid enough to hold a conversation, Donovan had asked his name and what had happened to him. The harrowing tale was enough to turn Donovan's stomach, and he had left Ambrose to rest. Later, Carter had taken a book with him and read to Ambrose. Adalia had smiled when she discovered them, Ambrose still tucked warmly into the bed and sleepily answering Carter's questions or adding explanations to what the boy was reading. This reading session hadn't been long, and Ambrose drifted off to sleep again as Carter tiptoed out the door.

"What's got you so worked up today, Carter?" Donovan asked.

"They're looking for him!" Carter said, his volume more controlled now. He pointed to a small picture of Ambrose on the front page of the paper accompanied by a small article about the search and that any information regarding his whereabouts was to be reported to Captain Cain.

"Has the weather cleared?" Adalia asked, peering around her husband to get a look at the window.

"Yes. Can we take Ambrose home, mother? I'm sure that would make him feel better than anything," Carter asked.

"Get the wagon ready, Carter. Adalia, my darling, would you get some blankets around? It's still bound to be chilly even without the wind," Donovan said, getting up from the table.

"It says here that Captain Cain is Ambrose's husband," Carter said, taking another look at the article. "He's married to another man? How does that work?"

"An explanation for another day, son," Donovan said, giving his son's head a tender push. "Go get the wagon." Carter seemed satisfied with this answer and did as he was told. An hour later, Carter was sitting in the back of the wagon as his parents sat on the seat above him. Ambrose, still too weak to walk or sit up, was as equally bundled as the family that had saved him, but curled up on his side in the bed of the wagon, only dimly aware that they were going into the city.

*************

"Lieutenant Lewis? A word?" Wyatt said, catching up to the man in the corridors of the barracks.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" Lewis said.

"Come with me," Wyatt said, escorting Lewis to a nearby empty office and asking him to sit down. The other lieutenants lined one wall and suddenly Lewis was beginning to feel more than a little apprehensive.

"What is this?" Lewis asked.

"Can you tell me where you were the night the Queen's advisor disappeared?" Wyatt asked.

"I was off duty that night, sir," Lewis replied. Moments later, the four men that were off duty with their lieutenant entered the room. "A bloody witch-hunt!"

"Were you in your lieutenant's company that night, men?" Wyatt asked. The men nodded and murmured 'yes, sir'. Wyatt pretended to make notes at his desk, writing down the men's names and what they told him. The silence and the presence of the other lieutenants did the trick as Wyatt had predicted. One of Lewis's men shifted nervously and Wyatt focused on him.

"Is there something you want to tell us, son?" Wyatt asked, looking up. Lewis started to turn around to look at them and Wyatt barked for him to remain where he was. The young soldier, despite threatening looks from his comrades, blurted out everything.

"I was there, sir! I was there the night Ambrose disappeared and we were under the Lieutenant's orders!" the boy cried, shaking from head to toe before the intimidating form of his Captain.

"Which lieutenant?" Wyatt demanded. "As you can see, all five of them are here."

"Lieutenant Lewis, sir!" he sputtered. He was sweating and now the other three men were starting to get nervous as well.

"Where did you take him?" Wyatt growled softly, closing in on the young man.

The soldier stood trembling. He indicated that they were responsible for threatening Ambrose and harming him and then dragging him, struggling, to the western edge of the city and watching as he stumbled through the snow out of sight. One of these accused drew his pistol and Wyatt had his out and against this man's head before he could get it ready to fire.

"Lieutenant Addams?" Wyatt said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take these men to the draftiest prison cell you can find and make certain they are not provided with a coat," Wyatt said, holstering his gun. "Lieutenant Cain?"

"Yes, sir?" Jeb replied, taking a step forward.

"Take a contingent of men and take the road leading west. Find him," Wyatt ordered.

"My pleasure, sir," Jeb replied, nodding respectfully as he left the room.

*************

Donovan and his family were nearing the city when a group of soldiers rode out of the city toward them. Carter looked at them in wonder.

"Father, could they be soldiers that work for Captain Cain?" Carter asked, standing up to lean on the back of the seat.

"I would say so. Are you thinking that they might be interested in our cargo?" Donovan teased.

"Yes!" Carter said.

"Lieutenant!" Donovan cried as the horses neared the wagon. Jeb pulled his reigns and turned his horse. His men mirrored him and followed.

"Can I help you?" Jeb asked.

"We're wondering if you are someone who would have contact with Captain Cain," Donovan asked politely.

"What business do you have with the Captain?" Jeb asked a little more defensively than he meant. He was on a mission and he knew that in this cold, it was more realistic to be looking for his step-father's corpse rather than hoping to find him alive.

"You see, sir, I stumbled upon an injured man the other day while I was out hunting and we thought you might be interested in knowing who it is," Donovan explained.

"With all due respect….wait…you live out this way?" Jeb said.

"Yes, sir," Donovan replied, even though Jeb was much younger than he was.

"Is this the man?" Jeb said, moving to look over the back of the wagon.

"Yes, sir!" Carter said, gently shaking Ambrose's shoulder and pulling the blanket back a bit. Carter helped Ambrose sit up and Jeb nearly fell from his horse.

"Ambrose!"

"Jeb?" Ambrose murmured. "Is that you?"

"You're alive!" Jeb cried, asking permission to get into the wagon box and kneeling beside his missing step-father. "Dad's going to flip!"

"Dad?" Carter echoed.

"Captain Cain is my father. We've been looking for Ambrose for days!" Jeb said, biting his lip as he embraced the blanket wrapped bundle. Ambrose weakly fished his left arm out of the blanket and clutched Jeb's shoulder, starting to cry as he realized that everything was going to be all right.

"Follow us with the wagon," Jeb instructed him, getting back onto his horse. He was grinning from ear to ear and he ordered one man to ride ahead of them and immediately tell the Captain the good news.

*************

When Donovan descended from his wagon, Captain Cain was waiting to greet him.

"I understand that our royal advisor owes you his life," Wyatt said, shaking Donovan's hand while Carter helped his mother down from her seat. Two of the soldiers that had ridden out with Jeb now opened the back of the wagon box and Jeb was inside again, carefully moving Ambrose to the open edge of the box.

"Yes, sir," Donovan said, "and I understand that he's quite a bit more than just the royal advisor." Wyatt smiled bashfully.

"That's right," he replied. He excused himself and made his way to the back of the wagon. No words were necessary as Wyatt swept the bundle up into his arms and fought the urge to cry and kiss the man he loved who had been miraculously restored to him. He sent Jeb to go and get his truck, and then carefully set Ambrose inside before once again gratefully shaking Donovan's hand and then Adalia's and Carter's, too.

"Thank you," Wyatt said over and over. "Thank you so much for what you've done. I'm not sure if we'd have found him in time if you hadn't been so kind."

"It was our pleasure to serve, Captain. Our farm has produced double since our neighbor got one of his harvesting machines. He brings it around to the neighboring farms and you wouldn't believe how fast the work gets done. We owe him our lives, in essence, so when we found out who we'd saved, we decided that it was a kindness returned," Donovan said. Wyatt asked Donovan and his family to stay in the city for a while so that Lieutenant Addams could talk to them and get their story of what happened and then announced he was going home for the remainder of the day.

When Wyatt arrived home with Ambrose in his arms, the servants scrambled to get things around for them and when the dust finally settled, when Ambrose had bathed, eaten, and was eased into bed, he was exhausted again. Wyatt had put on a clean shirt and pants after helping Ambrose with his bath, and now slipped into bed beside him, pulling him into his arms.

"I missed you so much," Wyatt said. "I thought you were dead; really thought you were dead. Someone tried to tell me that you were unhappy with me and walked away—that that's why you left your wedding ring behind—but I didn't believe it."

"My ring?" Ambrose murmured, looking up at him. "You found my ring?"

"Yes!" Wyatt replied, working his left hand out from underneath Ambrose and pulling the extra ring from his finger. "Here—let's put it back where it belongs, huh?"

"Please do!" Ambrose said with the first genuine smile he'd formed since his rescue. Wyatt slipped the ring back onto Ambrose's third finger and then lightly kissed his hand. Ambrose ducked and his lips connected with Wyatt's. The kiss lingered as Wyatt deepened the kiss and their embrace, pulling Ambrose tightly against him.

"Ow!" Ambrose gasped softly, fighting his grip a bit.

"Ow?" Wyatt repeated, not sure what he had done.

"Bruises…" Ambrose said, "Just be a little gentler tonight."

"My scarecrow…" Wyatt murmured, sliding his hand through Ambrose's hair. He leaned in to kiss him again in long, soothing motions, moving to kiss his neck and collar bones and then moving back to his mouth, moaning softly as Ambrose relaxed and seemed to finally let himself enjoy the affection.

"My tin man…" Ambrose whispered, stroking Wyatt's face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Wyatt replied, holding Ambrose as tightly as he dared. Ambrose snuggled in against Wyatt's chest and yawned. Wyatt was quiet for a moment and then kissed the top of Ambrose's head. "The queen is going to be so happy to see you again," Wyatt murmured softly.

"She should have replaced me when she had the chance," Ambrose mumbled. "I'm a liability—she can't count on me."

"That's not true. You are not a danger to her and she can most certainly count on you. She could never and would never replace you. Maybe she could replace an advisor, but she could never replace her best friend," Wyatt said. Ambrose smiled gratefully and swallowed hard, blinking back tears. There was a silence as Wyatt held him and Ambrose finally asked his question.

"What's wrong?" Ambrose asked, his eyes closed as he listened to Wyatt's heart pound in his chest.

"I want to know what happened to you. I want you to tell me what happened and not leave anything out. I want to know about every mark, every bruise on your body," Wyatt said.

"You've already seen the bruises and marks. You helped me with my bath, remember?" Ambrose replied. "As for the rest…"

"Tell me," Wyatt begged.

"I can't repeat it," Ambrose said, emotion thickening his voice. He shook his head as a tear coursed down his cheek and over his nose. Wyatt made his lover look at him and then kissed him softly once, twice, three times, murmuring that it was all right and that he was safe and that he promised not to get angry—not just then anyway.

Ambrose took a deep breath, swallowed, and told him everything; from the beating with the cane to being kicked on the floor, to the unthinkable: the men had gotten drunk and taken turns holding him face down over a table while they violated him with the empty bottles. Ambrose was sobbing by the time he recounted getting lost west of the city in the freezing snow. Wyatt had long since worked them both into a sitting position and Ambrose fit like a puzzle piece into his embrace again.

"You're safe now, sweetheart…everything's all right…" Wyatt murmured, rocking Ambrose gently as the brunette rested his head against Wyatt's shoulder.

"I know that," Ambrose replied. "It just makes me sick to think about what they did to me." Wyatt nodded, stroked Ambrose's face and kissed his forehead.

"I only know of one way to cure that," Wyatt said.

"What's that?" Ambrose said, leaning to his right and relaxing against Wyatt's shoulder.

"Let me make love to you," Wyatt said gently. "Let me make you mine again." Tears brimmed in Ambrose's eyes—such love—he was willing to take Ambrose back into his bed even after being sullied by others.

"I can't," Ambrose mumbled. "It would hurt too much!"

"We can work around the bits that hurt. Lie back, trust me, and let me love you," Wyatt coaxed softly, urging Ambrose to lie back with his head toward the foot of the bed. Wyatt proceeded to very gently undress his love, liberally applying tender kisses and watching carefully to avoid the bruises as he physically reminded Ambrose that he was both dearly loved and irreplaceable.

*************

Azkadellia met Wyatt and Ambrose in the grand entry hall of the palace. She was smiling and dressed in festive maroon with white fur trim on a long matching cloak.

"You're home!" she cried, wrapping her arms around Ambrose's shoulders.

"Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated," Ambrose teased, returning her embrace.

"Come. Mother and DG have been beside themselves," Azkadellia said, taking Ambrose's hand. When they arrived in the throne room, the queen rose and came to meet them, stopping them all in the middle of the room when she wound her arms around Ambrose's middle and rested her head against his chest.

"I thought I'd really lost you this time," the queen murmured, her eyes closed as the gap in her heart slowly filled again in the warming presence of her best friend. "I've read Lieutenant Addams' report and I intend to swiftly deal with those who did this to you."

"Yes, your majesty," Ambrose said with a soft smile.

"I missed you so much…Are you feeling any better?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

"Yes, your majesty, much better now," Ambrose replied. "Where's DG?"

"She hasn't come down yet today," the queen replied.

"Lavender!" a voice called. Ahamo walked quickly across the room. "Darling, come quickly!"

"What's going on?" asked Azkadellia.

"Your sister is having her baby!" Ahamo announced, smiling broadly as his family reacted and all of them proceeded up to the bedroom wing and were mystified to find it strangely quiet. Jeb slipped out the door of the room he shared with DG, his features weary and a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

"What's happened?" asked the queen.

"Is DG all right?" Ambrose asked. Jeb looked up at them and mopped his hand down his face as he started to smile.

"Had you guys for a minute there, didn't I?" he teased.

"Jeremy Wyatt Cain," Wyatt rebuked him.

"Shame on you!" Ambrose said, shaking his head and then leaning it on Wyatt's shoulder. Raw caught up with them a moment later, his eyes as wide as his grin.

"Everything's fine," Jeb laughed. "Better than fine—it's great!"

"Tell us already!" Ahamo chuckled.

"We have a daughter!" Jeb announced. He hugged his father and then Ambrose before gesturing for everyone to wait for a moment. He sneaked back into the room and came back bearing a small bundle in a white blanket. The family spontaneously took a step closer to see as Jeb tucked the edge of the blanket back to reveal his and DG's baby girl. There was a soft collective gasp and the newborn opened her eyes to look around. The queen's mouth fell open and she looked at Jeb in pleased surprise as he laughed softly.

"Her eyes…the color must skip a generation," Jeb said as the others peered over to look at the little one's startlingly bright lavender eyes. Jeb gestured gently and then eased the baby into her grandmother's arms.

"She's so beautiful!" the queen whispered, a tear falling from her cheek to the snowy white blanket.

"And someday she'll be queen," Azkadellia added, staring lovingly at her new niece. "What's her name?"

"Aella Gale," Jeb replied, grinning proudly. "Aella Gale Cain, Princess of the O.Z."

"Is DG awake?" Azkadellia asked. Jeb nodded and the queen passed the new princess to Ambrose, who sat down on a nearby bench and was immediately surrounded by Ahamo, Wyatt and Jeb while mother and daughter made their way into the bedchamber.

"Hello there, beautiful," Ambrose whispered, lightly kissing the top of her little head. For a moment, Ambrose seemed to be lost for words.

"Are you all right?" Wyatt asked, his arm around his beloved's shoulder.

"I was just realizing that I very nearly wasn't here to see her on her birthday," Ambrose replied softly.

"But you are," Jeb added, "and she'll always remember that all three of her grandfathers were there to greet her the day she was born." Wyatt shook his head and chuckled.

"Lucky kid…how many children can say that they have *three* grandfathers?" Wyatt said with a wide smile. Ambrose realized with a mild blush that he was probably over his turn and passed the little one to Ahamo, who cuddled his granddaughter for a while as Wyatt covered Ambrose's hand with his own and squeezed it. By the time Azkadellia emerged from the bedroom, Wyatt had the baby in his arms and had stood to walk a few steps with her.

"Well, hi there," Wyatt said softly. The baby grunted in response and Wyatt chuckled before looking at his son. "What does Aella mean?"

"Wind storm," Jeb replied with a cheeky grin. "We thought it was appropriate." Aella fussed as her father, grandfathers and aunt shared a laugh before she was finally passed into Aunt Azkadellia's waiting embrace.

"Come along, sweet one," Azkadellia said, kissing the baby's round, pink cheek. "Your mother wants to feed you."

"That's our cue to exit, men," Wyatt said, adding the suggestion that they should go to Ambrose's work shop. Wyatt wanted to see the adjustments that Ambrose had been making to his car before he disappeared.

"I don't think I can go in there just yet," Ambrose said as they walked.

"We're all here with you, Ambrose," Wyatt said, nodding a gesture at Ahamo and Jeb. "Nothing's going to happen to you while we're here."

"That's right," Jeb said. "Besides, I seem to remember that someone once insisted to Dad that he could kick someone's ass with his rhythm as his only weapon." Ambrose finally broke into a smile and composed himself long enough to nod.

"All right," he said starting to lead the way. "Well, you see, the left bank of that fancy eight cylinder engine was running lean so I…"

*************

THE END


End file.
